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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27367834">Dreams of You Still Live Inside of Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethewordsare/pseuds/wherethewordsare'>wherethewordsare</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angry Jaskier, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Dream Control, Dream Magic, Dream jaskier, Human Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, I am shit at tags, Jaskier to save the day, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mind Control, Sad Jaskier, Seriously you guys, Tags and Ratings may change, Temporary Character Death, Whump, but it is not that djinn, cw: blood, cw: descriptions of dead bodies, im so sorry, it's loosely based off that one episode of SPN, not a djinn, post mountain, things are not going to go well for him in this fic, very hopeful geralt, very sad geralt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:54:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27367834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethewordsare/pseuds/wherethewordsare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What is it witchers dream of? What in this world do they want more than anything? Geralt didn't even know until he walked into the den of an unknown mutation and ended up trapped in a dream with his heart's one true desire; Jaskier.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Life Not Lived, Only Dreamed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingbard/gifts">theamazingbard</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welp... @theamazingbard posted this a few days ago and I couldn’t help myself so here we are. Uh, mind the tags, this is probably going to get kinda spooky at some parts and fairly wumpy at others. I’ll update tags as I go: </p><p>so what if the djinn was more like how it was on supernautral? i know, i know hear me out.</p><p>geralt finds the djinn, fights, and then…</p><p>wakes up. he’s in a warm soft bed. the world feels different.</p><p>in the mirror he sees not a witcher, but a man. short, dark curls. brown eyes. not a scar to be seen on his body.</p><p>the room he’s in is filled with art and instruments. books. the bed, a four poster luxury. just outside the window (big, with heavy curtains), he can hear the sound of horses and a familiar voice.</p><p>mystified, he walks outside and sees jaskier cooing over a horse. it’s not roach. none of the horses in the stable are. but jaskier recognizes him. kisses him as if he’s done so a thousand times before. it’s peaceful.</p><p>and isn’t that what he wished for?</p><p>he’s a stable hand, works in the lettenhove estate. there are no monsters. people look at him with respect, not fear. at night, he’s warm and curled around jaskier. there’s no death. it’s almost exactly the life he would have chosen for himself.</p><p>but then… jaskier never travels. his work as a viscount keeps him busy. he doesn’t play music, and when he does none of the songs are original. calls it a little hobby.</p><p>geralt grows restless. something isn’t right. he starts doing research. asks questions. travels into towns. can djinns grant wishes? but the more he looks into it, the more the world… shifts. jaskier changes, starts composing. suggests they travel. there’s a horse that looks like roach in the stables.</p><p>it’s not real. and he knows it.</p><p>thinks that if he dies, then he’ll go back to the world he belongs to. the one where he’s a witcher and life isn’t peaceful. and he wants to go back, even if it means that this… warm beds and sweet kisses don’t exist ever again.</p><p>jaskier pleads, tells him he can live a full life. that he can change, be exactly what geralt wants. that the entire world will bend for him.</p><p>the sky darkens. geralt plunges a knife into his own heart.</p><p>and wakes in a world where the djinn is fighting a sorceress.</p><p>jaskier had gone and sought for her when geralt had fallen prey to the djinn.</p><p>yennefer and jaskier ask questions. hundreds. yennefer wants to know about the wishes. jaskier wants to know what the hell he was thinking</p><p>and geralt just wants to forget everything that was never meant to be</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The den reeked of unwashed bodies, festering wounds, and spilled blood, layers of it. Geralt wrinkled his nose, his eyes scanning the darkness for the telltale sign of blue he had been warned about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The village had called it a djinn, but what they described was nothing near what Geralt had ever heard of before. It was possible that maybe this thing had been a djinn at one point, or it was something completely new. A new mutation that the Witchers would have to now be wary of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looking around, counting up the huddled forms, Geralt got the distinct and unnerving feeling that this thing was not new. It was in fact incredibly old and incredibly dangerous. Every once in a while there would be a soft sound of contentment or even a rolling giggle, half murmured words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knelt beside an older woman and watched her face closely. She was still breathing and there was the tiniest smile curling her lips. He looked her over and saw what he had seen on the others around her. Her arms were covered in long scratch marks, like tallies, angry bruises around each of them. Geralt rolled her as gently as possible, finding what looked to be a tendril, almost like a vine slipping into the back of her neck. Glowing blue fluid trickled sluggishly around the wound where it dug in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked around, not seeing any sign of the monster. Pulling out the dagger from his boot, he propped the woman up and made to cut the tendril in her neck. He barely had his fingers around it to pull it taught when her eyes flew open, milky, and burning bright blue. She let out a scream that nearly burst his eardrum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he tumbled back, pulling the dagger up and wheeling around. Something behind him, always behind him slithered along the ground. His hand clamped over the back of his neck as he felt a pinch but it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Geralt was unconscious before he hit the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>-o-O-o-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the feeling of his heartbeat, too fast but steady in his throat, that must have woken him. The smell of something terrible lingered but he was safe in his bed at home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Safe? No, he had just been fighting a… something? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bright blue specks floated behind his eyes, a dull ache pushing against his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sheets pooled around his hips when Geralt sat up, softer than he thought they should be. Far finer than anything he had been used to when traveling with-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stave off the pounding behind them. He felt-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well good morning, handsome!” Jaskier waltzed in and Geralt started. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finally took in the room around him. The furniture was understated but still lavish and he found himself in a large four-poster with linens that were far more expensive alone than his whole armor set. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I don’t have armor? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought, frowning down at the covers that he gripped in his hands. He looked up again to find Jaskier was standing there with a look of concern on his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, dearheart?” Jaskier leaned first against the edge of the bed before climbing in and onto Geralt’s lap, his arms wrapping around him as if it was just something he did. He gave Geralt an easy teasing kind of smile. “Did you have far more to drink last night than I originally thought? You shouldn’t let Merik egg you on so much.” And then…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s mind went pleasantly blank as Jaskier leaned down and kissed him, his fingers threading up through Geralt’s hair. If Geralt wasn’t pretty sure he was losing his mind, he would have even thought it an incredibly nice kiss. Jaskier’s mouth was warm and soft above him and it was easier than breathing to wrap his arms around his waist. He was rewarded with Jaskier’s soft breathy laugh and, oh, he wanted to hear that again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was a dream, Geralt decided. A very good, very vivid, very warm dream. That’s why when he took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs with as much of Jaskier as he could, he found that the smell of him was muted somehow. But he was there so Geralt rolled them, tangling them both in the sheets as he dipped his head to drag his teeth along the pale column of Jaskier’s throat.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt tried not to think of how everything around him seemed muted in the same way. Shadows around the edges of the otherwise bright room were deeper, how he had to be pressed tightly to Jaskier to feel his heart beating in tandem with his own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have a chance to think about that before Jaskier was pushing up on his shoulder gently, still beaming under him but now deliciously rumpled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you big oaf, we have people to meet today,” he hummed leaning up to nip on Geralt’s chin affectionately. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It struck Geralt how easy the gesture came, how openly affectionate Jaskier smiled at him. His hand came up, cupping the side of Jaskier’s face, pushing his hair out of the way as Geralt’s thumb traced his cheekbone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when it caught his eye. Geralt looked closer above Jaskier’s brow and frowned. The small scar that had been in his hairline nearly as long as they had known each other was gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were sitting in camp and Geralt took Jaskier’s face gently in his hand, dabbing at the cut with a damp cloth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It will need stitches,” he said flatly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh no, Geralt! Not my face, I’m far too pretty to scar!” Jaskier squirmed. They had been traveling together for only a few months and this was the closest Geralt had ever seen him to fear, and it wasn’t directed at him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t worry. You’ll still be pretty.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You think I’m pretty, Witcher?” Jaskier tried to waggle his eyebrows but winced, a fresh stream of blood sliding down his brow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hold still, you’ll only make it worse,” he hid his smile behind annoyance and exasperation. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was turning his face into Geralt’s hand, kissing his palm. “As much as I would love to stay like this all day,” he leaned up, propping himself on his elbows, “we have so much to do before overmorrow.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt let him up, watching this Jaskier closely. As Jaskier moved from under him, Geralt caught his hand, letting himself revel in the way Jaskier just let him as if it didn’t bother him. But the skin he found there was soft and unbroken. The calluses he knew populated Jaskier’s fingertips and the top of his palm were all smoothed away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My you’re affectionate this morning,” he leaned down and gave Geralt a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at breakfast, dearheart.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt watched from the large unfamiliar bed, tracking this familiar and unfamiliar Jaskier as he left. But his eyes caught instead on something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across from where he sat, a long looking glass hung on the wall. What he couldn’t quite understand was that the man there was in fact, handsome. Geralt had a distinct memory of long silver hair and bright amber eyes from the last time he looked into his reflection. Now, he was met with tousled dark curls and warm hazel eyes. His bare chest was unmarred by battle wounds. He was just… a man? A human, stripped of his mutations and the wear of the Path. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing that seemed to not have changed was the deeply concerned scowl reflected back at him. Even in his wildest dreams, Geralt was still always Geralt the Witcher, he would never even hope to be…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a djinn, Master Witcher. It has to be! How else could it have shown me… It’s all I ever wished…” The man sat there, haggard and on the brink of breaking down. His eyes had been sunken and they couldn’t seem to focus on Geralt’s face. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm. We’ll see,” Geralt nodded, leaving the tavern and the only survivor of the monster that had taken up residence in a nearby cave. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Waking Nightmares I find You In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier learns that Geralt is not but a day's ride away. Furious, he sets out to confront him, it being the first time he'd see Geralt since the dragon hunt. But when he arrives, Geralt is nowhere to be found and the locals are talking about a djinn. When he does find Geralt, he knows he has to call in reinforcements. No one is thrilled.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>How dare he</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jaskier thought, slamming his things down into his pack and grabbing his lute. The absolute nerve of that Witcher bastard. The gall! Jaskier stormed down the stairs and out of the inn. His grey mare nickered at him, sidestepping as he aggressively packed his saddlebag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, sweet girl. I’m not angry at you. But could you imagine being less than a day’s ride from someone you owe the biggest apology to-” he huffed, glaring at nothing but imagining Geralt’s stupid face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to hear that he was this close,” he groused, tightening a strap, “from a beet farmer!” It stung to think that Geralt must have heard there was a bard only the next town over but still stayed away. Jaskier had had a lot of time attended to stings just like that but now he had a chance to do some of the stinging himself. He had spent the last two years crafting the perfect condemnation for Geralt when he saw him next. And he was going to get his chance, the gods damn him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken half the time it should have to reach the town. Jaskier’s mare panted heavily as he led her into a stall, paying the stablehand handsomely. He gave her an apologetic pat as he took off his bags and told her that he’d make it up to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Across the square was the tavern and the farmer he had talked to said that was the last place he had seen the witcher with white hair. Geralt. Jaskier marched across the street, his shoulders square as he went.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve come for the witcher!” He demanded as he threw open the door. For all his dramatics, the tavern was empty save for the barman and two men sitting at a table near the corner. At the mention of a witcher, however, every one of their eyes went to the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s gone to the djinn,” a haggard old man said quietly into the silence. His words soared through the air like a dagger, but it wasn’t until his next that they hit their mark. “Been gone a day and a half now. Won’t be long till it kills him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something cold and hard slid down between Jaskier’s ribs as the words hit him. “Fuck, not again,” he muttered to himself. His hands shook as he placed his bags down, making his way to the table. He gestured to the seat across from the old man. “What djinn? Where’s the bottle?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no bottle, son, just a cave and the stench of death and now it’s got your witcher. It’s been taking people now for a few months, at least. They usually don’t last but a week.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier tried not to wince at ‘your witcher’ but some pain must have shown on his face. The man reached across, his sleeve tugging up, revealing a series of scabbed slash marks. He had spent enough time on the path to know when someone’s been attacked by something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where?” He asked. This couldn’t be happening. He was owed an apology, a way of closure, something, anything! Geralt wasn’t allowed to die, and by a djinn no less!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the cave just outside the quarry. Follow the road. You’ll smell it before you see it,” the man answered. He seemed lost in another thought, as pulled his hand back and his fingers went to twisting over the hairs at the nape of his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier thanked him and asked the barkeep for a room key. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re a friend of the witcher and he’s dead, you can just take his room,” the barkeep said gruffly. Jaskier swallowed and took the key. There was little sign of Geralt there, just his spare potions, a whetstone, and his rucksack. Jaskier put his own things in the corner, out of the way and easy to grab before leaving again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back in the stable, he asked after Roach, knowing if Geralt was only just outside of town, in danger, Roach would be here. She was and she seemed to still know him, even after the years apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clever darling, my Roachie girl, you remember the bard that spoiled you for anything that big brute could give you, hmm? Did he give you the apples you preferred or sugar when no one was looking?” He bribed Roach steadily as he saddled her and tacked her in her harness. She allowed it, only nibbling at his elbow once or twice. “That’s it, be a good horse, and there’s more where that came from, you know I’m good for it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once he was mounted, he pushed Roach to a gallop the second she cleared the stable doors. They raced along the road, him pressing her on around each bend, the ominous lack of time licking at his heels. He was down at least 2 days already if Geralt was in trouble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier did smell the cave before he saw the entrance. It smelled of death and decay and something green and rotting. Roach bucked slightly, anxious to go any further so he left her tied off to a tree branch as close as she would allow him to lead her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier had to cover his nose as he entered, the stench overwhelming as he let his eyes adjust to the near darkness. It was damp and warm inside and he couldn’t shake the feeling of entering a maw that was just waiting to snap shut. Around him, there were bodies and bones, and the smell of the unwashed and the dead alike. He swallowed around his gagging as he moved on, careful not to step on anyone or anything. Along the floor, he noticed a latticework of fine ropes. Not ropes, vines. They looked slick, some kind of moisture on them catching in the light from the mouth of the cave. He followed one, careful not to touch it as it led to one of the bodies leaning against the wall. It was desiccated and the lips had begun to peel back from its teeth. Jaskier shivered, averting his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Near the center of the cave laid a large hulking figure that Jaskier would recognize anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s white hair, though dirty and knotted stood out in the low light, making him easy to spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you are!” Jaskier whispered, picking his way over. When he got there he looked carefully, seeing another one of those vines attached ran beneath Geralt. “Alright. Don’t touch the vines, I hear you, Geralt. What else?” He asked the prone form. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaning down, he could just make out the sound of Geralt’s breathing, slow and soft as it sounded when he slept. The idea that Geralt was just asleep and not in grave danger tugged at something in Jaskier he tried his damnedest to ignore. It wouldn’t help save him if Jaskier was too busy falling to pieces. He did his time doing that and he wasn’t about to start again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed Geralt gingerly onto his side, tilting to see the vine attached to the back of his neck. He let him roll onto his back again before turning to look around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By Geralt’s feet was a body of a woman, her eyes wide but unseeing, milky white. Blood had pooled around the back of her head and nearly dried, still tacky under his probing finger. Maybe a day. And there was another vine, this one seemed to have been yanked on and dislodged. She might have been alive before and Geralt’s meddling had led her to this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, don’t touch the vines, and don’t try to detach you. Alright, Geralt, alright. What else? What else do I need to know, you big oaf? How do I save you?” Jaskier leaned back down over Geralt, gently cupping his face to try and find some kind of answer there. “If you can hear me, you have to know that I’m not giving up on you, this isn’t how you end, Geralt of Rivia. I have so much yelling to do at you, ass hole.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt remained ever silent on the filthy floor, but there was something like a smile on his face, his lips moving slightly as if forming words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt?” Jaskier leaned as far as he dared, his ear nearly brushing against Geralt’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jask,” Geralt hummed warmly, and when Jaskier yanked back, confused and suddenly burning again, Geralt seemed to give a proper smile, though his eyes remained shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, I know what I need to do, but neither of us is going to like it. She won’t like it either.” Jaskier stood, making his way back out of the cave, carefully picking his way over bodies as he went. He looked back to the bright spot of white hair once he reached the mouth of the cave. “I’ll be back for you, Geralt. Don’t you dare die on me yet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was surprisingly easy to get her attention, it turned out. The only thing Jaskier had to do was mention that the villagers had called the thing a djinn in his letter that he sent with the fastest messenger horse in the area and within two days, a portal was opening in the town square and Yennefer of Vengerberg was walking out, her black dress shimmering in opalescent blues and greens as she made her way to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is this about a djinn?” She said instead of greeting him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why hello, Yen, so good to see you, how’s the family?” Jaskier bit back. He wasn’t proud for having to had reached out to her, not after the whole disaster that was the dragon hunt, Jaskier had nearly hoped to never see nor hear from her again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cut the crap, bard, what’s going on? Where’s Geralt?” She crossed her arms and stared her usual daggers at him. There was something sharper about her eyes, defensive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down, he’s not here. He’s a bit… tied up as it were” Jaskier gestured for her to have a seat beside him on the low garden wall and nearly chuckled in surprise when she did. He told her everything, everything that he knew at least. That there was something that acted in like a djinn but only so far as it would only show what its victims wanted. That Geralt had gone to fight it, that he had been caught by it, and that Jaskier wanted to try and save him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He won’t love you for it,” She said simply when he finished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, looking off down the road. “I don’t need him to love me. I thought I did, but I think I just need to know he’s safe.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, you’re both disgusting. Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright?” Jaskier tried to keep the hope out of his voice, too ready to have Yen’s help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll help. But you owe me, Jaskier.” She bit and with that, she stood and made her way to the inn.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Let me count my sins like a flock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt catches on to the thing that captured him and gets out with a little help from his friends. of course at a cost.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, just a bit of a heads up... this gets a bit graphic here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time moved in an unpredictable mix of flashes and points standing still on the edge of endless. He would wake up, wrapped around Jaskier, get dressed, grab a quick breakfast, and then it was off to the stables. He trained horses for the estate and would spend the mornings with his work. It was rewarding and he found an easy peace in it, though it passed the time quickly enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the moments that made time seem to stand still were the ones he got to bask in the brightness of Jaskier’s open and earnest affection. He didn’t doubt it when Jaskier traced the lines of his body with reverence. All the scars and aches that had plagued him before were simply gone, and with it, the feeling like his body would never belong in the same space as Jaskier’s. He felt whole for the first time as far back as his memory could stretch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> There would be times Geralt would try to hold onto the memories of the time before he had woken up to this new life but they were quickly becoming dreams. The memories of Jaskier with a lute strapped to his back as he sauntered ahead, his hips swaying with an internal rhythm were so far from his mind now that bright morning light was streaming in and they were curled into the soft hazy glow of this place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never thought…” Geralt started one morning, his and Jaskier’s fingers steepled above them, idly tracing at the edge of Jaskier’s thumbnail. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought what, love?” Jaskier asked, his chin resting on Geralt’s bicep, splayed at an angle across the large bed. He was smiling and his eyes were bright blue and his hair clung to his forehead in the early heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never thought you’d forgive me, let alone… all of this,” Geralt sighed, his chest tight. Something about it still felt untrue, but how could Jaskier be so warm against him and the air smell so-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt took a deep breath, his nose twitching as he scowled. The air smelt rotten and damp. There was something cold and sickening about the way it filled his lungs. He nearly gagged with it, jolting up and away from Jaskier to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand gripped his shoulders and for a moment, he thought he felt something pinch at the back of his neck, but then Jaskier was there, pressing his forehead to the back of Geralt’s shoulder, his arm coming around his waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt? What’s wrong?” The arm around him squeezed gently, pulling him back down into the comfort of their bed, Jaskier’s face appearing before him again. It was something about his eyes. Far bluer than they had any right to be. A shade of blue that didn’t belong to his bard but to something else, dangerous and old and rotting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-” Geralt was shaken. What did he say? He felt as though something fundamental in his world had just shifted away from under him and he was plunging into headfirst into a truth he wasn’t ready to face. “Nothing, nothing. Must have drifted off,” He gave a weak smile and leaned in, kissing the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Come on, we need to get moving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy body!” the Jaskier in the bed pouted at him as he turned away. Geralt only saw it, just for a moment through the corner of his eye and again in the reflection of the mirror. The glow in his eyes was not just a trick of the light and it made Geralt’s heart nearly stop. He fought through the bile rising in his throat, his hand reaching up to touch a medallion that wasn’t there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier opened his mouth to speak, his lips moving but whatever they formed did not line up with what Geralt heard. “If you can hear me, you have to know that I’m not giving up on you, this isn’t how you end, Geralt of Rivia. I have so much yelling to do at you, ass hole.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he spun around to face-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word mutation sprang to his mind first and he nearly recoiled, only just keeping his feet under him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said we should go down to the river today,” Jaskier looked at him with concern, his eyes only normal Jaskier bright searched his face. “What is wrong with you today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grasped at straws, too eager to crawl back into bed and push Jaskier, his Jaskier back down into the sheets and let this one bright thing melt him away to nothing, but those words still echoed in his head. They rang of something far more true than he had heard over the few weeks he had been living this life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was coming for him and he was pissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment, it seemed to anchor him against the situation he found himself in. If Jaskier, real Jaskier, the one that didn’t belong to him, the one he hurt, the one he let leave thinking the worst of him was coming to his rescue, he would have to play along with this one until he could make his escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt flooded his chest, a longing bone-deep and lifelong tugged at him. Here he could just sink into the easy happiness and never have to face the things he had done to the real Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think going down to the river is an excellent idea,” Geralt smiled, letting himself be pulled into Jaskier’s arms at the edge of the bed, soft lips grazing across his ribs. “We can pack a late lunch and you can bring your lute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why he said it but once the words were out he realized what he was doing. He had to know, know for sure if there was something, even a little bit real about this Jaskier. Would anything true about the bard he had met all those years ago in that shit tavern in that shit town be in this creature that told him he was loved and cared for and safe?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier just looked up at him, tilting his head. “My lute? I haven’t played music in nearly twenty years, what are you talking about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to sob. He could see where this monster would think that Geralt wouldn’t want Jaskier to sing or play, every memory he had shared with Jaskier vocally about his music was a negative one. In a way, it had shown its hand and in another, it only ensnared him further. It had been so easy to just pretend that maybe in some small way, a part of it might have been even remotely true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walk down to the river passed without notice. They had set out and before Geralt knew it, they were there, spreading out under a large tree, Jaskier curling up against him naturally. Here the sun sparkled off of the water and the shade cast dancing shadows in Jaskier’s hair. If he closed his eyes, he nearly let himself believe in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up, running a hand through his own messy hair, frowning at the way it curled around his knuckles and tangled under his nails. He traced his hand down the back of his neck, looking for the old claw mark that had once marked the border between the nape of his neck and his right shoulder but only found smooth skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to end like this you know. You could just let it go and let me take care of you,” Jaskier was peeling a grape idly. “If it matters so much, I can even play the lute, sing the songs, whatever it takes. Don’t you want to be happy, witcher?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not real. None of this is real and I’m pretty sure you mean to kill me,” He said flatly. He reached for his sword on his back and only found back. Jaskier was still pressed into his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything has its price and isn’t this little slice of a hero’s well-earned happiness worth it?” it looked up, smiling with Jaskier’s easy charm but its eyes were that unnatural vibrant blue that made his blood run cold. “It’s not like he’s really waiting for you out there anyways. What were you going to do when you found him? Apologize?” It ducked its head in a perfect imitation of the way Jaskier did when he was being bashful, down to the lovely pink stain against his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think he’d forgive me, but I owe him at least that much,” Geralt put his hand down, his fingers curling easily around the handle of the knife from their lunch. “What are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a good question and it’s been a while since someone’s asked. I think the people here call me a djinn but, no, that’s not right. I think I had a name once, a very long time ago but its hard to remember your own name with the names of so many others composting around your roots,” it chuckled. “I think the last one to ask me might have also been a witcher. You’re all the same it would seem, so ready to give in to the soft companionship of those you’d otherwise have no chance with, too afraid that outside of this construct all you’ll do is bring them more harm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stood then, walking to the edge of the water, its eyes never leaving Geralt as it stepped back. It blinked a few times as if to clear its vision, the glow of its eyes fading making it look more Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay with me Geralt, choose me, for once, choose the thing that’s going to make you happy. Don’t you deserve that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just leaned back against the tree, frowning up at the figure in front of him. The air still reeked and the sun didn’t seem to radiate the same kind of heat, the air felt still though the trees around him quaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt?” It was Jaskier’s voice. The one he used when he was afraid or hurt, small and worried. His head snapped up and saw the look of anguish that shaped Jaskier’s face and he knew what was coming next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scream split the air like an ax swinging down as Jaskier fell to his knees. He looked up from where he was curled in on himself, his hands reaching for Geralt as something invisible attacked him. He cried and begged and shouted, his voice never seeming to give out in the slightest as Geralt sat frozen in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when the world seemed to unmute itself. Even from twenty paces, Geralt could hear the way Jaskier’s heart hammered in his chest, how his breath hitched over every new pain that shot through him. Tears streamed down his face and something snapped with a sickening crack from within him as if his bones were being crushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, please! Please, just… gods! GERALT!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped to his feet then, barely able to breathe around the scent of fear and blood and decay that clogged his throat. Without his permission, his feet carried him until he was standing over Jaskier. Part of him thought this had to be the way he died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You have to hold him still, bard or he’s going to get burned” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Jaskier in front of him writhed and shook and coughed violently. “Why? Why is it that all you ever do is cause me pain? You knew the monster you were and you let me follow you!” it threw the words at Geralt through bloodied lips, as something new seemed to tear at it from inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt watched its eyes fall down to his hand, holding the knife and it seemed to smile, “That’s it, show me what you truly are… Butcher.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure which of them had made the noise, wounded and low and broken as he drove the dagger through the thing’s chest, letting it slump into him as blood flowed steadily over his fist still gripping the handle. He didn’t look down as it fell to the ground, still twitching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>NOW JASKIER!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp yanking sensation and blue light, hot and fast as summer lightning crashed behind his eyes and Geralt screamed as the world around him shattered and the bright light of the sun was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up, seeing Jaskier’s face, and nearly screamed, his hand still around his sword from where he had fallen before. Without thinking, Geralt rolled, meaning to cut the monster’s head off but a force knocked him back down, dazing him as his head bounced off of the cave floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennifer stood over him, one hand out, pinning him, the other wreathed in flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Geralt?” She spat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier sat beside him, eyes wide, his hands hovering over Geralt, trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of fear still stuck in the back of his throat, but for the first time, Geralt knew it was Jaskier’s and that he was the cause of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
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